


Before the Dawn

by handschuhmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: ...Chiss myths, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Gen, I accidentally wrote about Thrawn and Thrass as small children, I don't even know what's up with their names don't ask me, Kid Fic, What Have I Done, and their parents, baby Thrass, but not set ON Csilla either, cuteness, except long before that even enters into consideration of course, kind of utterly non-canonical Csilla, or like Tooth Fairy type tales, this family has unruly hair in the morning, this is sort of set in the Monstrous Regiment!Chimaera-verse, weird nicknames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The members of a certain Chiss family are awake earlier than they need to be on one fairly ordinary morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> ...with the merit adoptee thing, I'm not all that sure they should be called Thrawn and Thrass here but I didn't come up with an alternate solution. I haven't quite entirely decided how that works, even on my somewhat alternate Csilla.

He was fairly certain it couldn’t be time to wake up just _yet_ ; it was no where near light enough, and hadn’t they been on planet long enough to adjust to its schedule? But nevertheless he was wakeful, and rolled over onto his back, thinking about how splendid it had been so far with their little family and how thrilled little Thrass had been just yesterday by the field of flowers adjacent to the site Kelasys was analysing. Too, Micaver was due to call this evening, and they would likely have stew for supper, because that was what Thrawn liked and had been talking about--it was her night to pick something for dinner. Though Thrass was probably going to insist on having griddled cakes with it, as fascinated as their little one was with those. Well, those were at least pleasant domestic thoughts and not worries to keep him up at odd hours of the morning, though at this instant Danthon felt far from sleep.

Beside him Kelasys lifted her head from the pillow where she’d buried her face as she often did, face cast in shadow by the dimmest light of the planetary satellites peeking in through the calico-curtained window, and eyes catching the gleam as well. “It’s too early to be up, isn’t it?” she asked softly, and brushed her messy curls out of her face with her hand.

“What time _is_ it, anyway?” Danthon asked her, not particularly caring to don his spectacles at this hour. 

His spouse snuffled softly with amusement and looked over at the clock display on the shelf. “Quarter till fifth hour,” she pronounced, and sighed. “Not nearly long enough to go back to sleep, I’m afraid.”

“No,” he acknowledged ruefully and turned to kiss her softly on the cheek. “I suppose I should get up.”

Kelasys opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the door softly being pushed open and Thrass entering shyly, hair all tousled and pyjamas half unfastened. “K’r,” their youngest muttered in a tone laced with sleep and fright. 

“It’s okay pumpkin, come here,” Danthon said instantly, patting the bed for their child to come up and be cuddled.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Kelasys asked. 

“Mmm--mmm,” Thrass murmured in the affirmative, scrambling wearily onto the bed and onto Danthon’s chest, snuggling into him. He put his arm around Thrass, and Kelasys smoothed the unruly hair soothingly and kissed their baby’s forehead. 

“It’s alright, my little bumblebee. Everything’s going to be fine; it was just a nightmare.”

“And you know who chases down nightmares, don’t you?” Danthon said, feeling his child press an ear to his chest to both hear and feel his voice.

“The Tsan’csu,” Thrass responded sleepily, familiar with the Chiss myth of a winged centaur who pinned down the storm clouds of dreams with gilded arrows and herded them into her mountain forests. 

“Yes, she is orange as the daybreak and dusk and flies through the realms of dreams hunting down the nightmares that prey on children and anyone else vulnerable,” he related. It was not quite the time for a proper story, even if Danthon did fancy himself a decent teller of tales.

“And those she finds bothering people she picks off with a golden arrow she takes from her quiver and nocks to her bow, shooting with pinpoint accuracy and trapping the nightmares against the ground,” Kelasys continued.

“They look like mares made of storm clouds, you know,” Danthon added, settling into the tale, as Thrass watched them wide-eyed, despite the story’s familiarity, but less frightened now. “Who roam the dream-realms, like the grasslands on Aitk’sa, searching for those who are frightened or small.”

Thrass nodded silently and looked to Kelasys for reassurance.

“But the Tsan’csu is the protector of these, and the keeper of the nightmares besides, and when she frees the nightmares from her arrows she takes charge of them and herds them into her mountain forests so that they may roam without disturbing anyone,” she finished, and Danthon could not help smiling at her as they both administered physical comfort to their child, stroking down the unruly hair and rubbing the small back in soothing circles. 

Thrass quieted, but against the relative quiet of the autumn dawn, they could hear an odd yowling noise and the padding of footsteps. “A’n?” Thrawn asked quietly, peering into their bedroom.

“Yes, peregrine?” Danthon replied gently, careful not to disturb Thrass’s resumed state of rest on his chest. 

“K’r, I didn’t think--” Thrawn began carelessly and then rubbed an itch on her nose with one finger before explaining, “um, I’m pretty sure P’ret is fighting with something outside.”

“Oh, is that it?” Kelasys rolled her eyes and carefully rose from the bed, ruffling their eldest’s hair affectionately as she headed toward the dwelling’s door to take up a broom and dissuade the local wildlife or straying domesticated animals from pestering their temporary pet.

Thrawn nodded and slowly smiled, contemplative and slightly melancholy, at her mother. 

“Thrawn!” Thrass called sleepily.  
“Yes?” their elder child asked in response, turning towards the bed.

“Won’t you--um--curl up with us?” Thrass requested, pronouncing the words carefully, button nose wrinkled in concentration.

Thrawn looked at her sibling for only a brief moment before proceeding to the bed and climbing in, laying across the bed and resting her cheek on Danthon’s shoulder. He put his hand on her shoulder, his other on Thrass’s back, glad to have this moment with both their children. 

Kelasys returned a few minutes later, curls looking a little windblown. “I’ve set things to rights with P’ret,” she pronounced, and then considered only a brief moment before slipping back into bed beside Thrawn. “Not every day we get to curl up in bed as a family,” his spouse remarked, and rested one hand on his head, slipping her fingers into his hair. 

“No, it isn’t,” Thrawn agreed, and threw one arm around both Thrass and Danthon.

**Author's Note:**

> This... may or may not be continued. Probably I'll end up writing more of it just because I like doing fluffy things like this but really it's more likely than not to end up as another scene in this verse that's not closely connected.


End file.
